These past six months have been more rewarding and busy than any in my life up to this point. Writing on a daily basis and communicating with other ASPD-spectrum individuals has taught me a lot about the condition and myself. However, I cannot shake the eternal boredom that comes with the sociopathic condition. Being occupied is not the same as being free of boredom.

I’ve written about the boredom that comes with the condition before, but I’ve had more time to reflect since those words. I do believe that sociopaths and ASPD-spectrum individuals are at the their most reckless when they are bored. I’m not particularly convinced that anything can alleviate that boredom and the eternal need for stimulation. To say that we are junkies is not an apt comparison. We were never satisfied to begin with; we simply, and tirelessly, search for anything that provides any meaningful satisfaction with what we have.

Since ditching my anonymity, I’ve received inquiries from a few people asking for me to gauge whether or not they are sociopathic. The phenomenon is interesting and, frankly, unexpected, but ultimately I am not in the diagnosis business. Even if I were, I would not explicitly state my opinion to anyone seeking my advice for such a crucial question. I believe that true growth and knowledge comes from asking the uncomfortable questions necessary to find one’s orientation – be it gender identity, sexual orientation, or whether or not a person is anti-social. To do otherwise is to rob oneself of an important experience.

I wrote about the abuse and neglect that I suffered at the hands of my parents. It is interesting; I never really considered my experiences to be eventful or harmful and, in many ways, I still do not. I guess I knew no other way, but I also suspect that my wiring leaves me relatively unconcerned with the damage that was dealt. It seemed mundane to be beaten for misadventures in toilet training or for any number of other minor transgressions against my father. Likewise, being left utterly to myself for extended periods of time was not necessarily unwelcome, but I have been told that such is not considered prime parenting skills. I have a disconnect between my feeling state toward my childhood and the objective view that others have toward it.

I had forgotten all about this New Yorker article, originally brought to my attention by reading a summary by M.E. Thomas, until Christmas day. Empathy is one of the crudest components of the neurotypical and it can easily be used against them.

On Christmas day, as I lay on the couch trying to sleep, I was subjected to a torrential downpour of television commercials. There were the usual commercials for the latest and greatest toys and electronics, adverts for the latest albums, and a metric ton of ads for charities.